


Keep Your Friends Close

by bygoshbygolly



Category: Graceland (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bygoshbygolly/pseuds/bygoshbygolly
Summary: Johnny's a liar, but Carlito wants him anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesfortravellers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/gifts).



Johnny liked to play like he was a hard man, but Carlito knew better. Johnny was soft-- soft eyes, soft mouth, soft heart. He wouldn't have lasted five seconds with Carlos Solano Sr. It was a miracle he'd survived this long.

Especially when he was such a bad liar. Oh, he could bluster convincingly enough in the heat of the moment, and maybe he could fool some people, but Carlito had spent his whole life lying, and he could spot Johnny's half-truths and untruths a mile away.

He kept a list of his favorites:  
_I'm not afraid of you_  
_I trust you_  
_I believe in you  
_I love you__

Because there were lies and there were lies, and the fact that Johnny stayed, even with the fear in his eyes and the way he would sometimes flinch from Carlito's touch, that had to mean something, didn't it? Carlito knew from experience that staying with someone even when it hurt, _choosing_ to stay, was a form of love. So maybe there was a chance.

Or maybe that was just Carlito lying to himself. Again.

* * *

Four months in, he officially made Johnny his right hand man. Started seriously asking for his opinion on operations and taking him on meets and celebrating when Johnny did good. There were some mutterings about favoritism from some of the men who had been there longer, but Carlito shut them up real quick. He didn't need to be questioned. Johnny was smarter than them, and a better shot, and Carlito wasn't going to keep anyone by his side unless they were the best.

If he kept Johnny a little closer than his last right hand man, well, that was his business.

Plus, Carlito didn't quite trust Johnny. There was something about him that seemed to good to be true. Like someone had yanked him out of one of Carlito's more shameful fantasies. On top of that, Johnny was a good man, or tried to be, and Carlito didn't trust his conscience not to suddenly kick in and betray him. Keep your friends close, right? So he tied their fates together to give Johnny a little extra incentive to keep him safe; if Carlito went down, he was damned sure going to drag Johnny down with him.

* * *

The meet was supposed to be a simple one, but the other guys were determined to make things as difficult as possible. There had been a reshuffle in their organization, and this was meant to be a courtesy-- an introduction and restatement of terms. The problem was, the sneering prick standing across from him didn't seem to know that Carlito wasn't a man to be crossed.

“I was thinking,” the new guy said, as if it was just now occurring to him. “This deal doesn't really benefit us much, does it? It seems to me that you're getting a hell of a lot more out of it than we are.”

“The terms are more than generous,” replied Carlito. He shifted his jaw from side to side. There was always some bastard who thought he'd make a name for himself and earn respect by challenging the Solanos. 

“Yeah, see, I don't think they are. I think you're cheating us, and I think that the only reason you think you're such hot shit is because you're riding daddy's coattails.” His gaze flicked to Johnny and he smirked. “And maybe that's not the only thing you're riding.”

Carlito's face twisted into a snarl, but before he could do anything Johnny stepped forward and smashed the fist holding his gun into the side of the man's face.

“Show some damn respect,” he said, and hit the man again, breaking his nose and driving him to the ground. “Or Mr. Solano here might regret being so generous with you assholes.”

The other men stepped forward, hands going to their weapons. Johnny flicked his eyes to them.

“Stand down, boys. I don't got a problem with you. Your man here disrespected Mr. Solano; you all heard. No call for that. You take him back with you, let your boss know what went down; I'm sure we can work this out. If you wanna fight though,” he shrugged, but moved his finger to the trigger guard and shifted his weight. “I can do that, too.” The men hesitated. Carlito stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Johnny's shoulder.

“That's all right, Johnny. I'm sure these motherfuckers are aware that I could destroy them and their little gang without even breaking a sweat. All by myself.” He smiled, all teeth and no sincerity. “Tell Carmichael that I'm taking an extra cut next time, and if this _ever_ happens again, I'm burning you all to the ground.”

The men looked at each other, at the man bleeding on the ground, at Carlito holding Johnny's shoulder, knuckles white like he was the one thing keeping his man from pistol whipping all of them. They thought about what their boss would say if he found out they'd pissed off the Solanos because the new guy thought his promotion made him a big man and couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

“Yes, Mr. Solano,” one said.

“Sorry, Mr. Solano,” said another. He kicked their crumpled leader in the ribs. “You won't see this asshole again.”

“I'd better not,” Carlito replied coolly, and turned to leave, gesturing for Johnny to follow.

* * *

Carlito wasn't sure if Johnny had acted to protect him or to protect himself, but either way, he burned. With gratitude, with lust, with anger. It was anger that always came easiest to him, and so he rounded on Johnny as they got back to the car.

“What the fuck was that?” he growled. His fists clenched at his sides. Johnny looked confused. “You think I can’t take care of myself? You think I need you to defend my honor like I’m some _pussy_?”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Johnny said, raising his hands. “I just wanted to hurt him for what he said about you. I won’t do it again if you don’t want.” And here it was-- the chance for a test. Carlito took a breath, shedding the outward appearance of his anger.

“Why did you want to hurt him, Johnny?” Carlito asked, his tone insinuating. He looked up at Johnny through his eyelashes, leaned in with his hands on Johnny’s chest. “Tell me again. Was it because he thought I'm only here because of my father?” His eyes went hard. “Or was it because he thought we're fucking?” Johnny’s face went blank.

“Shit, Carlito.” He brought his hands up to cover Carlito’s. They were splattered with blood from the man he'd beaten. Carlito couldn't even remember his name. “I wanted to hurt him because he wasn’t respecting you. No one should say shit like that to you. It wasn’t the…the gay thing. You know I don't got a problem with that. I didn’t like how he was insulting you. I didn’t like how he was looking at you. So I hit him. That’s all.”

“And why didn't you just kill him, then? Huh? If you were so angry?” Carlito pressed, like if he kept asking questions, Johnny would admit he didn't really care about him, and Carlito could just kill him instead of dealing with these feelings.

“Let Carmichael take out his own trash. I didn't want to fuck up this meet for you, Carlito.” Johnny looked intently into his eyes, like he really meant what he was saying.“You work hard, and yeah, I know you could destroy them if you wanted to, but if I killed that guy there might have been more trouble, and I don't want to cause you trouble. Ever.”

Carlito felt tired as the anger faded back to its usual low burn. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but he couldn’t fault Johnny for it. He let himself rest his forehead against Johnny’s warm chest for a moment. 

“Well, you _didn’t_ fuck up the meet,” Carlito said, stepping back. “But be careful, Johnny. You wouldn’t want to overstep.” He wanted so badly to pin Johnny against the car and kiss him, to lick the blood off his hands, to make Johnny forget there was anyone else in the world but him, but he needed to reestablish his control, needed to make sure Johnny didn't get too comfortable. “Let's go home.”

* * *

“You would have killed him if I'd asked you to, wouldn't you?” Carlito asked as he shut the door on his side. Johnny froze.

“Yeah,” he replied, staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. “Of course.”

Liar.

* * *

It got him thinking, though. As pleasurable as it had been in the moment to watch Johnny pistol whip that asshole, it had seemed to dim the shine in Johnny's eyes. After their little conversation, the reality of what Johnny'd done seemed to hit him. The whole ride home he kept glancing at his hands and scratching at the blood splatters. He was jumpy for the rest of the night. His laughter when Carlito told the story to some of the guys over drinks was so fake even the others noticed.

Such a bad liar, his Johnny.

Johnny was soft, Carlito thought again. It was pathetic; a grown man running drugs and weapons, who couldn't even handle a little violence and who still had all the morals he was raised with. Even tender-hearted Lucia wasn't as soft as Johnny. No one could stay good in this business. Carlito would have told you that, before he met Johnny. Shit like that just didn't happen.

Except apparently, it did, and Carlito was struck with the immense unfairness of it all. He'd never been given the chance to be that good. He'd never been pretty inside, even as a child. Living with his father had seen to that. And Johnny just walked around like it was nothing. Like he wasn't some kind of miracle. Kept trying to save people like they wouldn't shoot him in the head given half the chance; kept trying to appeal to Carlito's better side like he believed there really was one. That kind of attitude pissed Carlito off.

And yet, Carlito found he wanted Johnny to keep that goodness. Without it, Johnny would be just another pretty boy trying to prove himself and making eyes from the shadows. As much as his good heart pissed Carlito off, it was also what kept his interest, far more than Johnny's dark eyelashes and sharp cheekbones and thin hands ever could. It was like staring into the sun, blinding and painful, but now that Carlito had seen it, he didn't know if he could ever look away. He was one-of-a-kind, and, better than that, he was Carlito's now. No one else would get the chance to touch that goodness. Didn't he deserve this, after all? Didn't he deserve Johnny? To have something good in his life?

Carlito knew he wasn't always as careful with his things as he should be, but he could make an effort. For Johnny. And for himself.

* * *

Fuentes was a mess, kneeling on the floor and begging for his life.

“I swear Carlito, I swear I never told. I don't know how they found out, but it wasn't me. You know I wouldn't tell the feds _shit_. It must have been someone else. It wasn't me.” Carlito sighed.

“Fuentes, I lost a lot of money when the feds busted that pick-up. Lost face. Lost some good men, too. Nearly lost Johnny here. Now, you were spotted talking to a cop last week, and you expect me to believe it's a coincidence we got busted?”

“I was just paying him off, Carlito, same as always. I swear, I didn't tell him shit. You know I wouldn't. Please.” Some of the guys had worked Fuentes over before leaving him to Carlito, and his words were starting to slur as the swelling on his face worsened.

“Fuentes, I wish I could believe you. But I don't, and someone has to pay.” Carlito drew his gun and pointed it at the man.

“Go outside, Johnny,” he said. Johnny leaned in.

“Hey, Carlito, you don't need to-”

“Are you questioning me?” He managed to keep his tone even.

“No, I'm just saying-”

“And I'm saying that you should go outside, Johnny. Don't make me repeat myself.” He waited. Johnny made a small noise of frustration, but left the room and closed the door behind him. Carlito smiled.

“You really should have known better, Fuentes,” he said. Fuentes opened his mouth to protest. Carlito shot him without waiting to hear it.

* * *

Johnny looked sick as Carlito came back out. Carlito put his cell phone back in his pocket.

“Someone will be here to clean up the mess soon,” he said. Johnny swallowed and nodded. “It had to be done, Johnny.”

“Yeah. I know.” Johnny's voice was hoarse and he wouldn't meet Carlito's gaze. “I just don't think-” Carlito glanced around. They had time before someone came. He took Johnny's face in his hands.

“Johnny. Look at me. Fuentes snitched. He nearly got you caught by the feds. So he had to pay.” Johnny still wouldn't meet his eyes. Carlito sighed. “Would you have liked it better if you were the one to do it?” Johnny finally looked at him, eyes wide. “No, right? And you didn't have to. I took care of it for you.” He smiled. “Now, what do you say? Hm?”

“Thank you,” Johnny murmured. He sounded broken. Carlito smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone.

“You're welcome, Johnny,” he replied. He was about to step back when Johnny leaned forward and kissed him. It reminded Carlito of that first time, in the back room of the club, all hard and desperate. So what if the desperation had a different flavor this time? Carlito had always taken what he could get. He kissed back, shifting his hands to cradle Johnny's head and pressing himself closer. Johnny's eyelashes were damp against his cheeks.

The cleaners would be here soon. He broke away, regretfully.

“You're welcome,” he repeated. Then he stepped back and let his voice harden. “Now pull yourself together. Someone will be here soon.” Johnny coughed and wiped his eyes.

“Sorry, Carlito. Won't happen again.” Johnny forced out a laugh. “That was some weak shit there, huh?”

“I know your secret, Johnny,” Carlito replied. Johnny froze, eyes wide and terrified. “You've got a soft heart. You don't want to hurt anyone, do you? Even if they deserve it?”

“I- I can do it,” Johnny said, weakly. “I've killed people before.”

“But it eats at you, doesn't it? Hurts you, down in your soul.” Johnny stared down at him, searchingly, then let out a breathy laugh.

“You got me,” he said. “It's embarrassing, right?”

“Don't worry about it,” smiled Carlito, all sharp. “I'll take care of you, Johnny. It'll be our little secret. Just make sure the boys don't find out. There'll be trouble if they do.”

“Thanks, Carlito.” Johnny sounded a little bewildered, but when he smiled, it was warmer than anything Carlito could remember seeing.

He'd made the right choice, he thought. 

He didn't let Johnny know what he had planned for the cop who'd betrayed them.

* * *

Of course, he knew that wasn't Johnny's only secret. No one had just one. But now they each knew something about the other that they didn't want the others to know. That kind of thing creates a bond.

Carlito made sure Johnny never had to kill. It was good for people to see their leader getting his hands dirty, anyway. Instead, he made sent Johnny to meets that were supposed to go smoothly, to bear good news, to do the things that would let him keep his shiny outlook on life. 

Of course, Johnny couldn't get away with just the good jobs. People would notice, and that would mean trouble. Anyway, Carlito didn't want Johnny getting complacent. He wasn't running a charity-- he was building an empire. So he had Johnny teach some people a lesson. It hurt Johnny, too, a little, but not like killing would have, and he always made sure it wasn't anything too bad; just enough so the boys could see Johnny was pulling his weight, and so he didn't get too cocky.

“Johnny,” he'd said that first time. “Shoot him in the leg.”

He couldn't remember now what the man had done or why he'd wanted Johnny to wing him. All he remembered was Johnny's startled look, and how his mouth had opened, ready to refuse him.

“Johnny,” Carlito pitched his voice low. “Either you shoot him in the leg, or I shoot him in the head. Your choice.”

Without a word, Johnny clipped the man in the thigh. A good shot. The man cried out and fallen to the ground, clutching his leg. Johnny winced.

That night, Carlito had made Johnny stay in the guest room. He'd slipped in, later, to find the room dark and quiet, and Johnny still awake, sitting on the bed and staring at the wall.

“Still sulking?” No reply. Carlito sighed. “What do you want, Johnny? Forgiveness? It's not free. You gotta pray for it, just like everybody else.” He hadn't been serious, but to his surprise Johnny slipped off the bed and dropped to his knees, his hands folded close to his chest. Carlito couldn't see his lips moving, but he heard murmurs, and the light from a passing car showed Johnny's face scrunched with desperation.

His heart surged. He stepped closer. Stretched out a hand and let it hover over Johnny's head before dropping back to his side. He waited, and after a few more moments, Johnny let his hands fall and his head tilt back. Carlito's eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could see Johnny was looking up at him.

“You're forgiven,” Carlito said. Johnny flinched. Carlito sat on the side of the bed and took Johnny's hands in his. “Your hands are clean, Johnny.” He kissed them softly. Only Johnny could make him so tender. “I gave you a choice, and you picked the better option. Your hands are clean.” He heard a shuddery breath. “Good boy, Johnny. Just do what I say, next time. I'll take care of you. Do what I say and you'll always be forgiven.”

Nothing more happened, that first night, but it was the start of a new routine, one that let Johnny smile and shine and still be useful. Carlito continued to repeat the ritual, telling Johnny that whatever harm he'd caused was forgiven, until whenever he needed Johnny to hurt someone, he'd just tell him exactly what to do, and Johnny would do it, eyes blank and mouth hard. Then, after, when the mess had been cleared away and night had fallen and they were alone, he would kiss Johnny's hands, whisper soft lies about forgiveness to him, and Johnny would be so, so grateful. Carlito didn't mind. If Johnny wanted to delude himself that the violence he committed didn't really count because he was just doing what Carlito told him, if separating that side of himself from his everyday life was what it took for him to keep shining, well, Carlito was only too happy to encourage those thoughts.

* * *

Despite how close they were, Johnny remained somewhat of a mystery. Carlito thought he'd more than earned Johnny's loyalty, but there was still something preventing him from committing 100%. Johnny's best kept secret.

Well, Carlito would take what he could get. It was how he'd got this far. And who was to say that something wouldn't change? Until then, he'd keep a careful eye on his boy.

* * *

Things weren't perfect, of course. Carlito was still himself-- full of anger and jealousy and fear. His blood boiled whenever he saw girls flirting with Johnny, grabbing him like they owned him. He wanted to rip their hands off for touching what was his, but had to settle for bribing them away with drugs and false promises. He knew Johnny could tell what he was doing. He didn't care, though, as long as no one else did.

Then there were the times Johnny would disappear, at first for days and then only for hours, and come back skittish and distant and full of lies, and Carlito would have to spend extra time and effort re-taming him. No matter how he tried to keep track of Johnny, keep him close, Johnny always found a chance to slip away, and he always had something nice for Carlito when he came back, a surprise contact from the old days or a quality antique pistol.

And there was the guilt, always, that old, bone-deep guilt about his own fears and desires. Carlito could never tell when it would rise up and overwhelm him. These were the times he was cruelest, and there were several occasions he'd come close to killing one or both of them. Sometimes Johnny would give as good as he got; sometimes he would just stand there and let Carlito rage at him, his eyes distant. After, they'd both pretend nothing had happened.

But there were the good times, too. Times where he'd show mercy, and Johnny would smile at him without a trace of fear in his eyes. There were the times Johnny would come to him at night and it seemed like he wanted Carlito almost as much as Carlito wanted him. The dinner he'd had with Lucia where neither of them had screamed at one another or thrown anything, and it felt like they were a normal, happy brother and sister.

* * *

Carlito kept Johnny close, and waited for the day his lies were no longer lies.


End file.
